by Kirk Zurosky
“Twice.”
“Uh, twice?” Martin sputtered.
The goblin who had carried on a bit of self-promotion stood and raised his hand.
“Yes,” I said. “What is your question?”
“How do we stay out of the Underworld?”
“For starters, live a good and honest life,” I said. “And second, don’t piss off the Lady of the Underworld. Finally if you cannot avoid a divorce or two, don’t get found in contempt of court.”
“Hades is a girl? But isn’t running the Underworld traditionally a man’s job?” the goblin asked as the students sitting next to him scrambled to quickly pick up their belongings and relocate far away from him, leaving him very much alone. “Hey, where did everyone go?”
“They are exhibiting some wonderful survival instincts, son,” I said, taking an exaggerated step back to the amusement of the class. “But, to answer your potentially, and shockingly not fatal question, Hades is indeed a woman,” I said to him. “And it is always best not to be on the bad side of the Lady of the Underworld, or for that matter”—I saw a female goblin staring daggers at the goblin who was now feeling very, very alone, and very, very singled out—“any woman.”
“How did you get out of Hell?” a troll asked.
“The kindness of a goddess the first time, and the truth the second time,” I said, ignoring the whispers that swept through the room among the female students. I distinctly heard “Persephone” and “phallus” at least a dozen times, and quietly thanked Hedley once again that my girls were not here to hear of my dalliance with a deity. “All right, any more guesses?”
“Dragons?” the troll called out. “It has to be dragons.” There was a short impromptu moment of silence for the dear departed Richard Puttsworth.
“Not even close,” I said. “Dragons will leave you alone if you leave them alone.”
“So why did it attack old Puttsworth, then?” Martin said. “Since you know everything, tell us that—if you can.” Martin seemed to think he had won a round with me, but once again my experience and a little luck were about to do him in.
I nodded, pacing back and forth as if seriously considering Martin’s question. Fortunately, Hedley had told me what had really happened to Puttsworth. “It is simple really,” I announced to the class. “So simple that initially one might overlook what had happened and chalk it all up to the random attack of a rampaging dragon.”
“You said dragons leave you alone if you leave them alone,” the troll reminded me.
“Indeed they do, indeed they do,” I said. “But old Puttsworth made a singularly bad choice that day.”
“I know, I know,” the still alone goblin shouted from the top of the seats. “Puttsworth was trying to steal the dragon’s hoard!”
“I said he made a bad choice, not an insane one,” I replied, bringing peals of laughter from the crowd. “No, while golfing that fateful day, Puttsworth hit a rather errant shot into the woods, and rather than take his medicine and chip out into the fairway, he chose to improve his lie, picking up his ball and placing it on what looked to be an inviting tuft of yellow grass.” It was fun to see these kids hanging on my every word, even Martin was interested in the story, and the faeries had their legs properly closed. I could get used to this teaching thing.
“And, and, and?” the troll prompted.
“Puttsworth brought his club back and took a mighty swing at his ball, taking a generous divot out of the yellow grass, and as he followed the flight of his ball toward the hole, he heard the bawling of a baby dragon seemingly close by. And the last thing he saw as he looked back down at the turf was a baby dragon clawing at the gash on its head as it thrashed around in front of him, crying for its mother, who promptly swooped down from the sky and swallowed up ole Puttsworth, club and all, in one gigantic gulp.”
“What’s the lesson in that?” the goblin asked. “That was just unlucky.”
“Was it?” I said. “If Puttsworth had been honest, he never would have struck the baby dragon and would have been alive in this very classroom, teaching all of you today. And ironically, his ball flew straight and true to the hole, scoring an eagle. But the dragon, on the other hand, had scored a Puttsworth.”
“Are you telling us that honesty is the lesson?” the goblin asked, his hand raised high in the air. “I mean no disrespect, but I am confused.”
“No, I am not,” I said, mustering myself for what I hoped was a big finish. I paced back and forth to drum up a little bit more dramatic effect. “The single biggest danger to each and every one of you is . . . yourselves.” The quills stopped writing, and there was complete silence in the room. Lobsang would have been proud. Hey, if it applied to the Duga Paw—it surely applied to immortals. “The choices you make,” I continued, “and the company you choose to keep will be your biggest joys, and your biggest dangers. So, if you want to find that which is most dangerous to yourself, simply look in a mirror.”
I saw Martin roll his eyes with as much disdain as he could muster while flipping his perfect hair. I sensed he was no stranger to a mirror, or for that matter any reflective surface. But he stopped immediately when the girls to each side of him looked at him with a different gaze than he must have ever seen from them. They had checked their internal mirrors, and it was clear that Martin was now on the way out of their lives.
I heard a warning bell announcing that I had only five minutes more of class. At the sound, Garlic popped her head up from her nap, then quickly went back to sleep. I was surprised that the class had gone by so quickly. “All right class, we are just about out of time,” I said. “Next class we are going to meet down on the field by the stables to learn some basic and, if you are up to it, more advanced self-defense moves.”
“Cool,” the goblin announced. “We are going to learn how to fight from the famous Master Assassin, Sirius Sinister.”
“No,” I said sternly. “The best way to win a fight is to not get into one in the first place. I am going to teach you how to defend yourselves if you do get into a fight, not techniques you can use to start one. Remember the mirror. What is your name?”
“Donald,” the goblin replied. “Donald Glastonbury.”
“Well, young Glastonbury, you are going to be my first volunteer,” I said. “So get some rest tonight!”
Glastonbury gulped loudly, and I did not discourage the collective titter of laughter that spread around the room. I made a big show of cracking the knuckles on each hand—slowly. It was never too early to send a message. Martin looked almost relieved that I had picked Glastonbury. My eyes narrowed as the bell pealed signaling the end of class. I vowed that Martin would have his day as my volunteer, and perhaps he would wish he were as dead as his namesake.
Suddenly, Garlic began barking sharply, and there was a shriek from a brownie in the front row, who promptly fainted to the floor. I whirled around to see what Garlic was barking at and spied a wormhole forming over the lectern. How was that possible? Surely, Hedley had the whole College of Immortals properly ensorcelled against crystal transportation. Instinctively, I grabbed the broadsword, although the pistols would probably have served me better. “Go class, go,” I cried. “Get out of here, and alert the Master of Masters!”
The class froze en masse as a bloodcurdling scream came from the wormhole, and the now revived brownie fainted once more. Martin was hiding behind his former girlfriends, and Glastonbury, uh, well, Glastonbury had soiled himself to the great chagrin of those within scenting distance, absolutely guaranteeing he would not get a date to the end of semester ball, if there was going to be a ball. A second scream came from the wormhole, followed by a rush of foul-looking water that splashed to the floor and spattered on my boots. My nostrils flared as the scent of blood and salt assaulted my senses. There was a lot of blood in that seawater. The question was whose? With a great pop from out of the wormhole came a merman in full battle ar
mor, his helm drawn low over his face, and he crashed down into the lectern, shattering it into so much kindling. The momentum of his fall dropped him to one knee, and his neck was vulnerable if I acted quickly. Had Orcinus not given up after all this time? I raised my sword for a killing stroke of Orcinus’s would-be assassin, sorry the class had to witness me sending the soldier’s head back through the wormhole as a message to that pompous ass.
But I stopped, for on the sword he held in one massive gauntlet was dark, stinking blood that I recognized by its unique stench—kraken! There was a second pop, and out from the wormhole came a little girl of about five years old with bouncing golden curls and a tentacle wrapped tightly around her waist. “Daddy,” she called. “Help me!”
“Maria!” I shouted. More tentacles shot from the wormhole, thrashing about the classroom and looking for prey, any prey, and the braver among my students ganged up to combat the tentacles. Garlic, fearful her attack bark would destroy the classroom or its students, latched her jaws onto a huge tentacle. Colossal calamari was clearly on the menu for my vampire Maltese. Glastonbury, on the other hand, threw up all over himself, guaranteeing himself to be a social pariah for at least the next two semesters. A tentacle slapped the helm of the merman, dislodging it from his head. And there rising before me to his full height, muscles rippling, long golden hair flowing, big blue eyes piercing, and sword at the ready was . . .
“Oh, he is lovely,” the werewolf vixen cooed, quite ignoring the tempest of tentacles raging around her. She stabbed at one absentmindedly with a dagger, still not taking her eyes off of the merman.
“My, my, my, he is lovely, indeed,” her mermaid friend agreed, driving a small triton she had taken from her purse into the tentacle.
“My Lovely has returned to me!” Mary Grace shouted from the doorway, pulling her pistol from her hip, and firing expertly at the tentacle holding Maria.
I completed the job, severing the tentacle from its body and pulling Maria to safety. “Yeah, Daddy!” Maria shouted, clapping her hands together. “Mommy’s still mad at you.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I said. “But right now we have to do something about this overgrown squid!” On came more tentacles, and the kraken roared in rage, and more water poured through the wormhole into the classroom.
“It is trying to come through the wormhole,” Lovely yelled above the din, hacking at the multitude of tentacles with a series of vicious two-handed swings, spattering kraken blood all over the classroom. “We have to stop it!”
“You think?” Mary Grace said to him. “By the way, Lovely, what took you so long? You said you would come see me. That you couldn’t wait to see me again.”
“He did?” I asked, slashing at a nearby tentacle. “Wait a minute, why aren’t you in class?”
Mary Grace merely shrugged, smiling broadly in the chaos as Lovely’s handsome face grew red from either embarrassment or the heat of battle. Mary Grace fired her pistol through the wormhole. “I thought you liked our kiss, Lovely.”
“What, you kissed him?”
The werewolf frowned. “She kissed him. Lucky . . .”
“I would like to do more than that,” the mermaid echoed. “Just saying.”
“Sir.” Lovely had stopped swinging his sword for a moment. “I can explain. But now is not the time. The kraken is holding the wormhole open, so unless you want half of the Atlantic Ocean in this classroom when it finally makes it through, I suggest we find a way to kill it or make it retreat so the wormhole closes.”
“Fine,” I said. “But you both have some explaining to do.”
“Whatever,” Mary Grace muttered under her breath, raising my ire. “I can explain to you that I liked it.”
“What are these?” Maria asked, plucking the thunder crash bombs from where I had secured them to my waist.
“Careful, honey, careful.” I scolded her. “They are kraken killers, but I have to get close enough to the kraken to use them. Lovely, get ready to pull me out of the wormhole, because I have one shot at this, and if I fail, I am squid food!”
“Nonsense,” said Lovely, sticking out his square jaw with conviction. “I am stronger, breathe water, and no offense, but I am probably faster than you, too, so let me do it!”
I ignored the cooing of Mary Grace, the mermaid, the werewolf, and any other students that had not fainted or fled the room over the noble Lovely. “Maybe so,” I replied. “But I know just when to detonate these babies, and besides I am not sure I can haul you and all your bulging, beautiful muscles out of the wormhole, even with the help of all of your adoring fans.”
“But . . .” Lovely protested, eyeing the kraken.
“There is no time to argue,” I said.
“Be careful, Daddy,” Maria said. “You have a lot more things to do you know.”
“Yes, baby,” I said. “I know I do.” And with that, I kissed Maria on the cheek, set her to the ground, and dove into the wormhole with Lovely’s strong arms latched onto to my boots. I had held my breath and was instantly immersed in the cold water of the Atlantic. One of the kraken’s mouths was right in front of me as it surged toward the wormhole, and I jammed the bombs into its gaping maw and thrust backward. I felt the concussion of a huge blast, a rush of dank water, then air, and ultimately found myself lying on Lovely with Garlic atop my chest, licking my face happily. Mary Grace was holding a concerned Maria, and some of my students were standing over me. I looked up to see with relief that the wormhole had closed. “Class dismissed,” I croaked. I looked up at Mary Grace as my students filed out quite stunned at the events of their first day of class with me. “Now,” I said to her, spying the Master of Masters standing at the doorway. “About this kiss . . .”
But I would not have a chance to interrogate Lovely and Mary Grace about the events leading to their first kiss. Instead, I found myself with Lovely and Hedley in Hedley’s secret office, with Lovely sitting in one chair and me in the other, the water still dripping from my breeches. “Lovely,” Hedley said, his eyes burning so intensely I thought I could see a bit of fire in them. “When word came of your delay in transporting young Maria, I sensed there might be trouble. But I did not foresee an attack of the kraken, as the Queen and Baron Orcinus had guaranteed safe passage for you.”
“You can’t trust that traitorous lout Orcinus,” I stated, pounding my fist on Hedley’s desk for emphasis. “He would do anything to get back at me, including hurting or killing Maria.”
Hedley’s steely gaze fixed upon me, making me quite uncomfortable. “Everything that happens in this world is not about you, Sirius,” he said, and cocked his head slightly, as if reconsidering what he had just said. “Even the baron would not jeopardize his precarious position in the mermonarchy to get back at you. There must be something else, Lovely. What news do you bring from the kingdom of the merfolk?”
Lovely exhaled long and deep. “Right as Maria and I were leaving the royal palace, there was an attempt to steal the Font of the Oracle.”
“What?” Hedley exclaimed. “That is impossible!” He stood and paced around the room, deep in thought, nearly stepping on a sleeping Norville in the process.
“I guess someone didn’t think so,” I said, looking at Lovely’s bulging bicep, and leaning in to whisper to him. “Now then, since Hedley is having a moment, let us talk. Tell me about you and Mary Grace—”
“Sinister!” Hedley yelled from behind us. “Not now. Gentleman, the Font of the Oracle is kept in the chamber of the high council, which is guarded by an entire legion of trident-carrying mermen.”
“Someone managed to get by them,” Lovely piped in.
“But the Font is affixed to a meteor that crashed to the ocean centuries ago,” Hedley continued. “The sheer weight of it makes it impossible for one person to remove it.”
“Well, she brought explosives that make Sirius’s little bombs look like party favors.”
“The Queen and Orcinus had struck a deal for me to deliver Maria here to the College of Immortals,” Lovely said. “I think the Queen insisted that I transport Maria to make a point to Orcinus that she was in charge.”
“How very wifely of her,” I snapped.
Hedley barely suppressed a smile. “And,” he coaxed Lovely. “And . . . ?”
“I picked up Maria at the gate of the royal palace, which sits just across from the chamber of the high council,” Lovely said. “The Queen and the baron were standing with us. It was all I could do to not punch the baron in the face—twice.”
“Too bad you have such good self-control,” I murmured. Actually, if he was in a relationship with Mary Grace, excellent self-control was a good thing—a very good thing indeed.
“There was a great commotion, followed by a massive explosion that blew out the wall on one side of the chamber,” Lovely said. “Then what I thought was some kind of strange seal-like creature shot from the chamber, heading for the surface.”
“What of the Font?” Hedley asked. “If the creature did not take it, did it get destroyed in the blast?”
“No, before I set out in pursuit, I went by the chamber and could see the Font was still in place, unharmed, though one side of the meteor had been blown to smithereens,” Lovely said. “There were mermen removing explosives that either did not go off or went off too late. The Font was safe. Since there were no other mermen in sight, and even though Maria was already strapped on to my orca, I set out in pursuit but at a safe distance, of course.”
“What kind of seal uses explosives?” I said. “Very peculiar. But you said she? How do you know that?”
Lovely nodded. “My orca eventually made up ground on the seal, and it was then I realized it was not a seal, but a person wearing a strange rubber suit with great balloons on its back, and long flipper-like shoes on its feet.”
“You don’t say?” Hedley said. “Very creative. I dare say ingenious!”